


The Marc Jacobs Top Incident

by minorLexicon



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Dysphoria, Gen, Nonbinary Character, Questioning character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 19:56:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1720679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minorLexicon/pseuds/minorLexicon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morty questioning his gender and some sibling bonding, not much more to it than that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Marc Jacobs Top Incident

**Author's Note:**

> i don't actually have much else to say about this? but if you're gonna try to tell me x character has to be cis because whatever get out of here i don't have time for that

            Morty sat in his sister’s room, frowning a bit at his own reflection in the vanity mirror. Though both of his parents were out of town and Summer was out shopping with her friends, it still felt wrong being in here. He pondered just standing back up, walking outside, and going to help Rick with whatever he was doing in the garage. His grandpa almost always cheered him up, and there was rarely a time Rick didn’t ask for Morty’s help, but the boy finally decided against it. Right now, he just wanted to be alone.

            He sighed and stood up, then walked over to Summer’s closet. The door was locked when he tried it, but he knew that since the jumbler incident Summer had been keeping the key under her pillow. Sure enough, once he pushed the pillow aside, he found a single golden key lying on top of his sister’s bed sheets. Once he slid the key into the lock, the door opened with ease.

            Morty shuffled into the space, careful not to move anything around that would make Summer believe someone else had been in her room. Standing before the clothes rack, he pushed the hanging shirts and skirts and dresses down until something finally caught his eye. It was a sleeveless, yellow top, made from thin fabric that billowed out at the bottom. In its center was a ribbon tied into a medium-sized bow. It was one of Summer’s favorite shirts, and Morty knew Summer had saved a lot of money to pay for it. He felt a little guilty as he took it off the hanger, but he was only going to wear it for a few minutes.

            Morty brought the top out of the closet and plopped down on Summer’s bed, feeling the shirt’s fabric between his fingers. It was soft and smooth and a bit cool to the touch from being in Summer’s closet for so long. He looked it over once more, then laid it down beside him on the bed.

            Next, he took off his own shirt, taking his arms out of it before pulling it over his head. Once it was off, Morty let it fall to the floor. The boy squeezed his eyes shut as he pushed his head and arms through the appropriate holes of Summer’s shirt. Though he was younger and still growing, his shoulders were broader than his sister’s, and it did take some effort, but he eventually managed to pull the shirt on.

            He stood, his eyes still shut. The teen paused a minute before peeking one of his eyes open. He blinked a few times, then opened both eyes and took a step closer to the mirror.

            He didn’t look terrible. The shirt was a bit short for his tastes and the chest sagged a little, but Morty didn’t mind that much. He was dismayed, however, at how rectangular the shirt looked on him. He didn’t have a tapered waist like his sister, and instead of showing off his curves like it did on her, the top only emphasized his own lack of them. He tried to suck in his stomach and puff out his chest but to no avail; his body was just too squarish to look good.

            He let out a sigh, sitting down before the vanity once more. Spread out on top of the desk was a wide range of cosmetics Summer used. Morty hadn’t planned on spending that much time in his sister’s bedroom, but she wouldn’t be home anytime soon and when would he get another chance like this?

            Looking at the brushes and bottles scattered about, Morty realized he wasn’t even sure what some of the products were. Lipstick and eyeshadow were all he truly recognized.

            “Well, uh, here goes n-nothing,” he mumbled to himself, reaching for a tube of lip gloss. He twisted the cap off and pulled it open, a bit surprised when he found a wand attached to the lid. He studied to object for a second before leaning towards the mirror and pressing the gloss to his upper lip. His hands were shaky with anxiety, and he ended up drawing the wand farther from his lip than he’d intended. He cursed once, then replaced the wand and attempted to rub some of the excess color away from the corner of his mouth. Next, he pressed his lips together, as he’d seen his sister do so many times before. The color spread to his lower lip, and he admired his work in the mirror.

            The pale pink color wasn’t very noticeable, but the shimmer on his lips was. He liked the way it shined, and he liked the faint fruity taste the gloss held. His lips curled up into a grin as he tightened the cap on the lip gloss and moved on to another product.

            The next tube he picked up was purple, and widest at its center. When he twisted it open he found the cap of this one was also connected to something. A brush. “Oh,” he remarked, looking at the black liquid coating it. It was mascara, he concluded. He moved closer to the mirror once again, his eyes wide as he held the brush up to his eye.

            Applying mascara wasn’t nearly as easy as he’d thought it would have been. He blinked and smeared some of the makeup on his upper eyelid almost as soon as he’d begun putting it on. Figuring trying to get it off would just create a bigger mess, he let it be. He was just going to take if off later, anyway. The teenager was just about to do his other eye when he heard the doorknob rattle.

            Morty watched in horror, the mascara brush still in his hand, as the door was pushed open.

            Summer was standing on the other side, and she looked just as shocked to see him as he her. There was silence in the room for a few moments as the two just stared at one another.

           “Morty, get _out_ —what are you doing in my _room_?” her shrieking cause Morty to jump. He dropped the mascara, leaving a dark black smudge on her white desk. “Is that my designer top? Morty, what the _hell_?”

            “Shit, shit, I’m s-s-sorry,” his voice quivered as he struggled to close the cap on the mascara. He didn’t bother to twist it shut once the brush was back inside the tube.

            He tried to pull the top over his head once more, but taking it off proved to be an even bigger challenge than putting it on had been. As he struggled, Summer pushed past him, knocking him down in the process. He stumbled back onto his feet, his head trapped inside the shirt and he tried uselessly to tug it off.

            “Oh my God, Morty, just _leave_!” Summer cried, pointing at the door.

            Morty shuffled away, bumping into the door frame before he was out of the room. His eyes were shut tight to keep himself from crying. “Way to go, s-stupid,” he spoke to himself, feeling his way down the hall towards his own room.

            Once his legs brushed the edge of his bed he sat down. Morty pulled and pulled  some more trying to get the shirt off ,and it finally gave. He stared at it in his hands once again. Though it was inside out now, its color was still beautiful.

            He choked out a breath, a few tears falling in spite of how much he didn’t want them to. His makeup smeared as he rubbed at his eyes, but he couldn’t care less. The boy composed himself again, before standing and walking over to his own closet. He’d left his yellow t-shirt in Summer’s room, and needed a replacement before he faced her again.

            Morty took out the first shirt he could find; a souvenir tee Rick had bought him on one of their adventures. It was a rose-colored shirt that proclaimed “I visited Gazorpazorp and all I got was this unflattering t-shirt” on it in pale green lettering. He frowned as he slid it on, acutely aware of how boxy his frame looked in this one as well. Unflattering, indeed.

            Morty took a deep breath, then picked Summer’s shirt up off his bed. He really didn’t want to do this. Nevertheless, he carried the shirt back down the hall to his sister’s room. He wasn’t surprised to find the door shut.

            The boy knocked once, keeping his eyes on the floor. His mind was racing and he could feel tears start to well up in his eyes once more. _No, no, no_ , his mind screamed, _I’m not gonna cry again._

            Summer’s face was drawn in a sneer when she unlocked and opened the door. She crossed her arms over her chest and was silent, waiting for her brother to speak.

            Morty didn’t dare look her in the eye after what had happened. He extended his arm, offering her shirt back to her, sniffling. “H-here. Can I have m-m-my shirt back, too?” He felt Summer snatch her shirt from his grasp. A few moments later, he felt his own shirt pelt him in the chest.

            “What the hell did you think you were doing? Did you think this was _funny_?”

            His head snapped up to look at her, his eyes still wet. “N-no! I-I-I wasn’t—it just—I just—p-please don’t tell Rick.” He paused, his lower lip quivering, then added, “o-or mom and d-d-dad.”

            Summer’s expression softened, and she took a step closer to him. She was quiet a minute, and then asked, “are you like, gay or something?”

            He almost laughed—he wished it were that simple. “No, I m-mean, I….” he didn’t know what to say. Morty stood there silent, before giving up and retreating to his room.

            “Morty, wait!” She started to chase after him, and Morty picked up his pace. Unfortunately, he was no match for his sister, and she reached his bedroom before he could slam the door shut. He stood before Summer in the doorway, not sure as to what he should do. “Can we talk?” Summer asked again, gesturing to Morty’s bed.

            His shoulders slumped, but he didn’t say no. The younger sibling trudged over to his bed and flopped down, drawing his knees up to his chest. Summer st adown beside him, her brow creased.

            “Morty? Talk to me, please?” her words were cautious. She didn’t want to see him cry any more.

            Morty sighed. “I don’t know, okay? I-I’m scared, a-a-and I just… It doesn’t feel like I’m a b-b-b-boy, but I’m not a girl either, and I’m c-confused and I didn’t—I didn’t th-th-think you’d be home yet.” His speech was rushed and jumbled, and Morty half-hoped Summer hadn’t understood him.

            She nodded, trying to piece it all together. “Oh… okay….”

            “I-I’m sorry I took your shirt and-and-and your makeup, I didn’t think you’d find out. P-please, please don’t tell Rick.” He was certain Rick would abandon him if he found out. No love was unconditional, and why would Rick waste his time with a Morty like himself when he could have an infinite number of Morties to choose from?

            Summer laid an arm over his shoulders, giving him a half-smile. “I’m not gonna tell anyone, okay?”

            Morty blinked a little. “Th-thanks.”

            “How about this,” she began, her smile growing, “you promise to not take my stuff or go in my room without asking again, and I’ll take you shopping and teach you how to do your makeup. Deal?”

            Morty rubbed his eyes, sniffing. “I d-don’t think I like wearing makeup all that much. B-but yeah, that sounds really, really nice. Thank-thank you.”

            Summer wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tight. “Of course. You’re my bro—uh, my. We’re family.”

            Morty put his head on her shoulder, smiling. He didn’t know if he could ever tell Rick or his mom or dad, but he had Summer, and at least for now, that was all he needed.


End file.
